A Stutter in Time
by CountingAllTheStars
Summary: The Quantum Shades are aware that their contract has been broached and despite the gimmick with the Neural Block, time isn't healing. When Clara receives a distress signal, she follows it to the planet of Harth-To. Unbeknown to Clara, the Doctor has also received a distress call leading him to the same planet. Who sent the signal? And what has it to do with the Shadow Proclamation?
1. Quoth

Does your heart ever stutter?

Stuck for a moment between a strong beat and a weaker one, does it ever linger too long? Your chest heaves to catch up. Your vision blurs - only for a second. You forget what's around you.

Clara Oswald was stuck between two heartbeats. Instead of a stutter, it as a void. A stretch of nothing, an emptiness in her chest. A cavity collecting dust.

Heartbeats were irreplaceable. Unnoticed by the living. Missed by the dead.

Clara was dead in every sense of the word. Yes, she could feel, she could walk, talk, think freely. But she couldn't age, she couldn't bleed, couldn't change. She was, quite literally, frozen in time.

It was the Doctor's solution to heal his broken heart. He had temporarily saved her from her inevitable fate, but she was a marked woman. The unyielding tattoo on the back of her neck branded her as property of the raven, the Quantum Shade from Trap Street. All paths led to Gallifrey, to the Extraction Chamber, to her very last heartbeat. She was taking the long way round.

Whether intentional or not, Clara was never sure, but the Doctor had left her with a companion and the TARDIS. She'd been travelling the stars with Ashildr, Lady Me, or 'Ash' as Clara had renamed her. They didn't know how to travel too far yet, they'd only been exploring starboard of the sun, but they were working on it. In between saving planets, of course.

She had the life had with the Doctor, only this time, she travelled with a little less heart and the last ticks of her soul.

"More tea, Miss Clara?"

"That would be lovely, thanks Jenny."

She watched the steam rise from her teacup. A trickle of liquid ran down the side. Once again, Clara was overwhelmed with a feeling of dread.

Lately, she and Ashildr had been visiting Vastra, Jenny and Strax. Clara found them comforting in their strange familiarity. She felt closer to the Doctor when they were around. As it happened, Ashildr knew of Madame Vastra, too. They'd met once before while chasing a copycat killer of Jack the Ripper. It was a topic neither lizard nor immortal wanted to broach again.

"What's wrong?"

Clara closed her hands around the mug. As she looked up at Jenny, she could see the gentle pulse of a heartbeat under her collar. Her dark eyes, so inquisitive, were gleaming in the half-light of the day. Clara felt her stomach clench; she had the distinct feeling that her own eyes had lost some of that fervour. The twinkle of mortality.

"I'm overthinking, that's all," Clara said with a small shake of her head. "We've stayed here too long. We should probably get going."

Jenny smiled. "You can stay here as long as you want, you know. There's always a room for you. Don't feel like you have to run off anytime you get too comfortable."

Clara took a long sip to delay a reply. There was a clatter from inside the kitchen and both women spun around. Strax stood at the threshold, one large foot stuck in a bucket and a mop attached to his head.

"Strax? What happened?"

"Miss Me didn't appreciate my attempts to remove her helmet," said Strax, clearly affronted.

Clara suppressed a laugh. "It's not a helmet, Strax, it's her new haircut."

"Oh." the Sontaran's face dropped. "That's what it was. Not to worry, Madame Vastra asked me to deliver a message."

"Go on, then," Jenny prompted.

"She would like to see Miss Clara in her study immediately, about a secret and confidential matter. It is important that I don't reveal what the secret and confidential matter is, as that would be a strategic weakness." He lowered his head and smiled. "But between you and me, boy, I believe it's something to do with what Miss Jenny and Madame Vastra have been whispering about all week."

He stared while wearing a grim smile like he knew he'd done a good job. Clara met Jenny's eyes as the human flushed. She got to her feet and ran over to Strax, shooing him from the room.

"Did I say something? I promised not to mention grenades!"

Clara took her time finishing the tea. When Jenny returned, she brushed herself down and returned her nervous smile.

"Clara - "

"It's okay, Jenny," Clara conceded. "We all have our secrets."

She left her in the kitchen feeling oddly muted about the turn of events. In truth, Clara had suspected something was off since she and Ashildr returned to the gang. The pointed glances between Vastra and Jenny hadn't gone unnoticed - Clara was queen of pointed glances. It was how she and the Doctor had communicated.

Vastra's study door was ajar. Clara was barely at the top of the stairs when she heard a velvety voice call;

"Come in, Clara."

Vastra's study hadn't changed much since her last visit, despite the fact Clara knew it had been a few years since she'd visited. Paintings of the female form decorated the walls and lavish gold curtains dimmed the light from the windows. Pots of exotics plants were placed at intermittent spaces around the room, and altogether, the air was thick and sickly sweet due to the increased humidity. Vastra, all in black and without her veil, was the main feature. Her scaled green skin glowed against the dark colours. Her blue eyes watched with great interest and a slither of deduction.

"Please, sit."

Clara sat at the edge of the woven chair. If their one-on-one conversations were anything to go by, she was sure to be out of it in a flash, reciting another righteous self-defence. She braced herself for the impact.

"I always enjoy your visits."

"As do I. They make me feel - well, human again."

Vastra smiled. "Red wine?"

Clara could eat and drink, although in her frozen state, she preferred not to. This time, however, she accepted the glass goblet with a small word of thanks. Alcohol had no longer any effect on her - she merely wanted something to hold on to.

"Is Jenny not joining us? Or Ashildr?"

"No. This has to be between us. Jenny knows some of it but it's best if we kept this between ourselves. Do you understand?"

With her thumb pressed into the cold glass, Clara bit her tongue and didn't comment. After everything that had happened, Vastra still talked to her like she was a beginner. She wasn't sure if it irked her or if she appreciated her honesty.

Vastra's eyes narrowed slightly. Her hands crossed on her lap.

"The Quantum Shade."

Clara flinched. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Vastra observed her with keen interest. She persisted. "Tell me, Clara, what you know of Quantum Shades."

"Has this something to do with the Doctor?" Clara quirked.

Vastra remained tight-lipped. Clara proceeded with caution. "I don't know much. The Doctor said they were a spirit, is that right? A spirit that harvests..." the words caught her throat. "A spirit that harvests souls."

The lizard woman watched Clara struggle with the bitter-tasting truth. She nodded and considered it for a moment. Despite her harsh exterior, Vastra cared about Clara. She worried for the girl's future. Whatever she was about to say next would sound cold, it would be a tough pill to take, but it needed to be said.

"Quantum Shades exist as parasites of time. As an entity, they feed off existence; memories, thoughts, feelings, experiences - in other words, the energy of life, the thing we call a soul. They are both the master and the servant. They have no physical body, which is why they take the shape of animals. They are the essence of time, the particles of the sphere. They can be anywhere at anytime. As an entity, they are powerful, but they are at their most influential when tied to a host. This is what happened with Miss Me, I believe. In return for souls, the Quantum Shade executed trouble-makers in Trap Street. Are you following me so far?"

"Yes," said Clara. "But why are you telling me this now?"

"As parasites of time itself, Quantum Shades are committed to the contracts they broker with hosts. Just as one cannot avoid the passing of time, or the laws of the universe, no one can cheat their way out of a Quantum Shade's chronolock." Vastra paused with her head bowed. "I say this because no one has ever successfully cheated a chronolock. No one except you."

Clara shook her head. "I haven't cheated anything. My time us up, I die on Trap Street. You can see it on the back of my neck. How - "

"Yet here you are. You're sitting in front of me with three zeros tattooed on your skin, as clear as day. This is unwarranted extra time. This is cheating."

"This wasn't my choice," Clara argued, sitting back in her chair.

"Being taken out of time through an Extraction Chamber wasn't your choice, no," said Vastra. "But being here today is. Every extra day you live is your choice. The Doctor created the cause, but you're creating the effect."

Clara's eyes started to water; she didn't know why. She didn't feel upset. She wasn't scared. There was something about this conversation, a topic she had mused over internally for too long, that panicked her when it was discussed in the open. Ashildr had never dared broach the subject - guilt, Clara assumed. This is what she wanted, wasn't it? For someone to talk sense into her, for someone to remind her of her inescapable fate?

Some common sense, at last.

"I'm going back to Gallifirey, Madame Vastra. As soon as I work out how to fly the TARDIS to the end of the universe. I made a promise and I'm not going to break it."

"That's not what I'm saying, Miss Oswald. Forgive me, I don't think I've made myself very clear."

Clara blinked to clear her vision. "Sorry, what?"

Vastra repositioned herself in her seat. She leaned across the table, hissing in a hushed tone; "There have been... disturbances."

"Disturbances?"

"With the Quantum Shades. They know what the Doctor has done."

With a croak in her voice, Clara shifted closer to the desk. "But I die - the Doctor watched me die. The contract is fulfilled - eventually. What does it matter?"

"They're now aware of the breach in the contract. Yes, you are dead. But you're also travelling through time with a chronolock that's counted down to zero. Do you see the problem?"

Clara looked to the floor. Her hand clenched around the goblet. "As parasites of time, I've upset time. I've upset them." A sudden thought came to her. "The Time Lords said time would shatter if the Doctor extracted me. Is that - is that what's happening?"

"No, my dear. The disturbances of which I speak are splinters. Small cracks around you, forward and backward in your timeline. Some splinters are larger than others, especially - " Vastra paused for a moment. She continued, "Especially where you've lingered for too long."

"The Doctor," Clara clarified. "The Doctor's in danger. From me."

With her eyes still glued on her guest, Vastra took a swig of her dark red drink and placed it on the table. The clink of glass on wood resounded in the quiet room.

"I think, Miss Oswald," Vastra said, louder than before. "We haven't seen the last of the Hybrid."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hi, yes, I'm back - sort of. If anyone is still around. I started writing this as a side project to help take my mind off a new fantasy manuscript I'm writing. It's post-S9 and will interchange between Doctor chapters and Clara chapters. Reviews are always welcome and encouraged!**


	2. Epilogue

**Chapter Two: Epilogue**

Clara was on her feet and pacing the length of Vastra's study. The lizard woman stood beside the window and watched her long strides, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"So, what's happened? Is he okay? Is he safe?"

"He's safe for now, but very soon he'll be able to notice the disturbances too." Vastra answered, "The Quantum Shades are watching him. Very closely. They're waiting to step in if they need to."

If Clara's heart was in motion, it would have leapt out of her chest. "What do I do? If I go to Gallifrey now, will it all stop? Will everything be forgiven?"

"I believe so." Vastra didn't sound completely certain.

"And what - " Clara stopped to stare at her. "What happens if I'm delayed? If I can't get the TARDIS to work properly? How long do we have?"

Vastra closed the gap between them. She tapped Clara's chin with her gloved hand, redirecting her brown eyes to meet her blue. She shook her head. "I have every ounce of faith in you, Impossible Girl."

"What happens, Vastra? Tell me."

The lizard woman let her hand drop to her side. "Splinters turn into fragments. Ripples into tidal waves. Where the Doctor goes, followed closely by the Quantum Shades, especially in places you two have been together, time will unravel. Historical events will cease to exist, civilisations will struggle to survive. Wins will turn into losses. Worlds will crumble. The Doctor will barely have time to apply a plaster, never mind a bandage."

Clara nodded. She took a deep breath, out of habit rather than need. The Hybrid was still a threat to the universe as long as she and the Doctor existed at the same time. Suddenly it made sense why her death was a fixed point. She couldn't let any of this happen - too many people had already suffered for them. She could fix this. She would put it right.

"Well, here we are then." She laughed and wiped her hands across her face. "We all knew it was coming. I've had plenty of time. As far as epilogues go, this certainly wasn't a bad one."

Was it just her imagination, or did Vastra have a tear in her eye? She placed a heavy hand on Clara's shoulder and squeezed it tight. "You're an amazing woman, Clara Oswald."

Clara shook her head. "Nah. Someone amazing wouldn't have let it get this far."

She turned to the door and then reconsidered. She observed Vastra how Vastra usually observed her. She turned a darker shade of green at the intensity of the stare.

"Vastra, one more question. Please, you will answer this question." Clara licked her lips, unsure if she wanted to know. She had to know. It was the one thing no one ever wanted to tell her. "Death by Quantum Shade. Why do people run?"

The green woman tilted her head. She joined Clara at the doorway, never breaking eye contact. "It's not just a death, Clara. Some cultures see it as a condemnation. The soul is... a delicate creation. Sacred. For a parasite to feed on it is - quite frankly, agony."

Clara bit her lip so it wouldn't wobble. "On the plus side, it's pretty quick."

Just before she slipped out into the hall, and without looking back, she called, "Thanks for your honesty, Madame Vastra. I'll remember it."

Clara walked out of the study a different person. She'd been running for too long; just like the Doctor, she was travelling, never stopping to escape reality. Wasn't it being exactly like the Doctor that had gotten her into this mess? Now she was even threatening him by just existing. It needed to stop. It couldn't go on. She needed to remember who she was; Clara Oswald, human. She wasn't afraid.

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no!"

He stomped across the metal grating, pulling down levers as he went. He spun the controller with a little more force than intended and pointed a long narrow finger at the central column of the TARDIS.

"How many times - I don't care if I'm grumpy, constantly changing my coordinates and bringing me to the planet of the fluffy pink llamas isn't going to work!" he scolded. "Yes, they're fluffy, yes they're pink, yes - _it's impossible_. It's annoying. It's not cute. It makes me grumpier. Is that what you want? Double the grumpy?"

The TARDIS groaned in response. The Doctor pulled on the monitor and read their new destination. He stamped his hand against the console. "Funny, very funny - now you're taking me to the land of the fluffy pink alpacas. You know they all talk with Welsh accents? It drives the most stable person crazy. Maybe I'll leave you there, trade you in for a vortex manipulator. How would you like that? They'll paint you pink and talk you to death."

He slumped on the stairs with his hand hanging on the railing. He bowed his head. "I'm trying here, you know? I'm trying to be normal. Pink fluffy things aren't normal. Give me a planet to save, an emergency to take care of. Give me a bit of danger. As far away from humans as possible."

Just as he said it, a high-pitched beep sounded across the TARDIS. _Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep_. In time with his thoughts. He perked his head and got to his feet. There was a flashing red light on the monitor, matching the rhythm of the new sound. The Doctor squinted as he leaned over to investigate.

"It's a message. Someone's calling for help." He smiled like a boy at Christmas. "Brilliant! Just what I needed. Come on then, how could we say no?"

He looked over his shoulder at the empty TARDIS. Suddenly his words felt rather hollow. Pausing, he felt the silence; the stillness of the TARDIS walls, the singularity of his breath. He was alone, yes. He wasn't lonely. He couldn't remember why he should be.

As quickly as it came, he was off again. He locked the TARDIS onto the path of the signal and traced it across three galaxies. He'd been to the planet before, although he couldn't remember his last visit very well. A wave of excitement overtook him.

"This is more like it!" He pointed at the central beam of the TARDIS. "Now you'll see - happy Doctor! Saving the day, saving a planet, answering a distress call. Back to normal."

He opened the TARDIS doors and stepped out into the alien suburbs. With a bright smile and a wicked twinkle in his eyes, he embraced the culture with open arms. He triumphantly sniffed the air.

"Just in case anyone is listening - someone is always listening, somewhere - it's time for me to sound clever," he said to no one in particular. "This is the planet of Harth-To; with a population of eleven billion, it's one of the biggest planets in the constellation of Fornax, 13.1 billion light years from Earth. It's home to Harthians, the native species, that has over three hundred races, and travellers from almost every corner of its galaxy! You'll find Ood here, Slitheen, Sontarans, Cybermen, Jyva2, and of course, humans. Ah, a fun fact about Harth-To, you ask? It has one language and their alphabet only has two letters. It sounds like they're constantly talking in binary."

He stepped away from the time machine and into the centre of the town square. As far as planets went, Harth-To didn't look dissimilar from Earth; it had quaint shops driven by consumerism, marble benches and street art - _was_ that street art or something leaking from the side of a building? Sometimes he couldn't tell the difference. He pulled his sonic from his pocket. "Not the most technologically advanced planets, but that's what makes it so lovable. You see, Harthians haven't went to war in over one hundred thou - "

The ground shook. At first it was a patter, like raindrops against water, but it slowly crept upwards until what was happening was unmistakable. It rumbled through the buildings, it shattered panes of glass. Shadows crowded the cobblestone ground. The Doctor looked to the sky; the lilac clouds were crowded with spaceships - ships that hadn't been there before. The shoppers in the town square shrieked and clamoured. Some ran into buildings, others were frozen where they stood. A single spacecraft hovered above the town and remained stationary over the fountain of red water. It projected a hologram of a woman the Doctor knew very well; the Shadow Architect.

"Residents of Harth-To, your ports and docking bays have been suspended. The Shadow Proclamation has reason to believe you are housing a war criminal. Under Article 32.75, any government protecting an inter-galactic war criminal is accused of war crimes and will be seized. Please do no retaliate."

The Doctor watched as the panic spread across the square. People abandoned their lunches, their shopping, others abandoned each other. No species liked the Judoon, that was for sure. Despite his confusion, the Doctor appreciated the panic; it made it easier for him to go unnoticed, undisturbed. He walked between the inhabitants and scanned for unusual readings on his sonic. Is this why he had been called here? Did someone know what was about to happen?

"You there," the Doctor called to an Ood who was still staring at the sky. "What year is it?"

"100101, sir," said the Ood. "Do you need help?"

The Doctor stared. "No, someone needs _my_ help. But this can't be right. I was here - when was I here? I was here with Clara." He shook his hand at the Ood. "Long story, I forgot my friend and now I'm struggling to remember our travels. A result of a faulty neural block. But I was almost certain - no, I _am_ certain we were came here that year. This didn't happen. This isn't supposed to happen."

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Oh." The Doctor looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. "Never mind. Could you point me in the direction of the person in charge? Yes, that usually works. I'll start there."

The Ood stalled for a moment, its slanted eyes searching the Doctor's face. When he didn't see what he was searching for, it pointed the Doctor in a north-west direction. "The intergalactic embassy is that way, sir."

"Thank you, thank you. Have a good day, or - " he patted his pockets and found Clara's old cue cards. He flicked through them before abandoning it altogether. "There doesn't seem to be one for 'I hope your planet isn't destroyed by the Shadow Proclamation for provoking Article 32.75 and that this has all been a massive misunderstanding', but you get the drift. I'll be sure to write it down for next time."

He waddled off, his arms flailing with speed, in the direction the Ood had suggested. The intergalactic embassy was a good shout, since it would be the first place being overrun with concerned visitors to Harth-To, panicking about how they were going to return home. Someone there would know what was happening, someone in charge would definitely give him some inside information.

The intergalactic embassy was a large building made entirely of moonstone, a natural occurring rock similar to sandstone on Earth. It reflected the purple sky with an elegant shine, and the Doctor knew from his last visit, that any government official building lit up the colours of Harth-To (purple, red and black) in the evening, when the sky turned a burnt amber. There was a gathering crowd outside the pillars; a group of humans were protesting loudly in colourful swears, demanding to be let in, while a couple of Sontarans were readying grenades if the embassy didn't react to their demands.

The Doctor stopped to consider his sonic. Funnily, and too conveniently, he was nearing the origin of his distress signal. Whoever had called for help must be inside the building.

He pushed his way through the angry crowd, flaunting his angrier eyebrows. When he got to the door, he faced the guard with his psychic paper at the ready.

"Step back, this is a case of -"

The Doctor flashed his psychic paper. "I think you'll find you need me at this time, good sir."

The guard squinted. He was a of Harthian descent, judging by how tall he was and the fact his skin was pale and scaly. Still, the Doctor didn't like to judge. These days most aliens looked the same to him.

"You're the cleaner?" he quizzed. "Where's your uniform?"

"Cleaner?!" repeated the Doctor. "Are you sure?" He looked at the paper himself to double check. Surely, in bold letters with the seal of Harth-To it read: HEAD HOUSE CLEANER. The Doctor sighed. "Really? Big spaceships in the sky, threat of damnation from the Shadow Proclamation and you're wondering why my uniform is?" He considered the guard for a moment before nodding. "I like you. Asking the right questions."

"Right." The guard stared with raised brows. "Go on in then. There's a leakage on floor four - urgent, if you don't mind. We can't let anyone in until it's fixed."

"Lovely. I have experience with sinister puddles."

With another long look, the guard let the Doctor pass. A few members of the waiting crowd tried to slip inside with him. The Doctor batted them away with floppy hands - there was no time for niceties and no one there to correct him. He revelled in the rudeness.

Inside the embassy wasn't much better than outside; the staff were in a frenzy trying to keep people out. Communication devices rang with no on there to answer them. The Doctor managed to slip past them to reach the stairs, where he traced the sign of the distress signal. He was getting closer. He'd just turned a corner on the third flight of stairs when he walked into a frantic woman.

"What're you doing?"

The Doctor didn't stop, he held his psychic paper in front of his face. "What're you doing?"

She eyed him. "Are you the cleaner?"

"Ah, yes. Yes, I am." He flashed his psychic paper again, shuffling past her. "But I need to talk to the person in charge. Can you take me to them? It's urgent. I need them right now. Don't ask any questions, I'm not in the mood for anymore light conversation."

"You're calling at a bad time," she admitted. "She's through those doors on the left-hand side. Although, she won't want to talk to you. She says she only wants to talk to a doctor."

The Doctor, only half listening, took a moment to catch up. "Sorry, a doctor? Is she sick?"

"No - I don't know. Everyone's sick at the moment, aren't they? Sick with nerves! Imagine the Shadow Proclamation - here! I can't bear to think -"

"Yes, yes, yes, very scary - did she say _a_ doctor or _the_ Doctor?"

The woman blinked. "I don't know, does it matter?"

The Doctor referred to his sonic. "I don't know either, that's what I'm worried about."

It was true; the signal was emitting from just behind that door. This was where he was supposed to be.

He wandered towards it and braced himself before pushing his way inside. He had a strange feeling - a bad feeling, if he allowed himself to think it. He pocketed his sonic and rounded his shoulders. He gave three knocks. And then he entered.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.

"Ah, there he is! The man himself! You know, I've been waiting here. You always keep me waiting. I told them, I said - wait for it, wait - I said, 'he ignores my texts, the only way I'll get him here is if I call the entire Shadow Proclamation.' Make a scene. Fake a war. Become a war criminal - actually, wait, it's easy when you're already one! Is that cheating? It's probably cheating. Anyway, I digress; here he is!"

She ran across the room to meet him, her arms out-stretched. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

The Doctor stared. He collected himself.

Then, he scowled. "Missy."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm trying to update once a week, maybe twice if there's demand (and I have time). Thanks for reading, please review!**


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